Of Class, Crass, And Suffering Succotash

Joe Paterno erred by not being more proactive and chopping heads after hearing about alleged sexual abuse going on under his nose at Penn State.

Now that the story has broken, at least he’s owned up to his shortcomings, expressed remorse and sorrow for the victims, and announced his retirement with a little bit of class.

Some say he’d show more class by resigning immediately instead of waiting until season’s end. They’re right.

There have been no trials or convictions in this case, and people are still innocent until proven guilty. But Paterno apologized to the “victims” without using “alleged.” If Paterno believes one his coaches was raping boys and he didn’t do enough to stop him, then Paterno should step down immediately.

As for crass — the landlords who leased a home and furniture to Michael Jackson are now auctioning the death bed. One of Jackson’s beds from an earlier house recently sold for $8,600 — and Jackson didn’t even die or cuddle with Macaulay Caulkin in that one.

Writing the above headline, I sought something to rhyme with “class” and “crass.” My Ivy League upbringing and highbrow literary tastes prompted me to think of this legendary thespian:

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